


A Mother's Sword: Devil's Analogy

by Izzy (Izzy_Dur)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Forgiveness, Gore, Trauma, a mother's love, do what you can, grisly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzy_Dur/pseuds/Izzy
Summary: What would happen if Uzumaki Kushina had not died? What if she'd secretly watched in shadows as her child was bullied? What if she finally snapped? What if...she killed them all?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Prelude to Death

Like an eagle she sat perched upon the rooftop, dressed in concealing black attire and shrouded in the haunting darkness that night usually brought. Her eyes, nothing but glistening blue sparks behind a mask, were locked onto a blonde-haired child, watching silently as four other larger children surrounded him. The sparks narrowed into slits as they began striking the smaller boy, their tightly wounds fists crashing into his face over and over again despite his desperate pleas at them to stop.

She watched this go on, keeping a mental timer in her head and was just coming around to the six-minute mark when an adult, the orphanage owner, came running out. It was a woman, a woman who, instead of chastising and possibly striking the other children, only grabbed the small blonde boy by the neck of his shirt and dragged him roughly back inside the building.

The woman on the rooftop closed her eyes and in doing so became one with the gloom and faded away….

* * *

**Three Years Later**

The boy was now nine. He'd gotten taller. His favorite food was ramen, any kind. He enjoyed pulling moderately adorable pranks, some of them rather sophisticated for one so young, and although he was harshly punished each time he was caught it didn't stop him from plotting his next one.

A woman, laying flat on the Hokage's monument on the head of the current third, Hiruzen, looked through an eyeglass; it increased her vision to over half the village away where she saw that familiar blonde from years ago running throughout the streets, closely followed by no less than six civilians. It was broad daylight yet she noticed not a single person bothered to stop this and ask what the cause of it was.

She herself knew the reason. Just an hour ago, the blonde had stolen a thirty yen fish, trying desperately to get some food into his malnourished form as the orphanage only seemed to feed him on odd numbered days. His technique for theft was sloppy and while only the seller should have been involved he, for reasons unknown to the woman, felt the need to enlist the help of several other venders, all of whom were now bearing down on the child as his little legs quickly grew tired.

She increased the scope of her telescope, watching emotionlessly as the blonde ran down an alleyway only to look up in horror when he realized it was a dead-end. The moment he turned around a thick fist caught him upside the jaw and he was thrown back into the wooden fence that barred his path. From there, the woman witnessed something she never thought six grown men would do. While two held the boy down, arms and legs stretched out, the other four took turns berating him with a storm of punches and kicks.

Even from her distance she could hear the boys screams piercing the air and, only for a moment, zoomed out to see if any other civilians or ninjas would heed the noise and come to the boys rescue. No. None of them did. In fact, the ones closest the alleyway went through great lengths to avoid it, walking wide angles around the opening.

The blonde suddenly let out a gargled howl and, cursing herself mentally for looking away, she zoomed back in to see the fish vender driving what looked like a ridged knife into the boys hand, sticking him to the wooden fence like a piece of stuck game. The man snarled something at the boy but she doubted highly he was heard because the boy kept screaming in agony, grabbing the wrist of his stuck hand, his fingers fumbling over the rush of scarlet liquid. More than being frightened of this intense pain, he was scared at sight of so much blood.

After watching him squirm for a few minutes, she expected the men to release him but was slightly astounded by their cruelty when they turned and began walking away, leaving a little child impaled to the fence. The woman stayed where she was, watching silently as the blonde gripped the blade of the knife and tried to jiggle it free, only to receive a pain so sharp that he vomited, adding further to the secretions already spreading around him.

He was still crying even many hours into the night. The impaled hand was all but shriveled with bloodloss and from the wrist down the flesh was turning a ghostly pale. Seconds from acting, the woman paused when a man covered in black fell from seemingly thin air, landing in front of the boy who looked up with bloodshot eyes, tracks of tears frozen to his face from the harsh night air. He reached out with his free hand, gasping, struggling to speak but fell short, the spark vanishing from his cerulean eyes as consciousness left him and he slumped, only held up by his stuck hand.

The figure surveyed the child for a few moments before bending down and grasping the knife's handle. At once, Naruto's eyes sprang open at this fresh chasm of pain but the man was quick and aimed a blindingly fast chop at the blonde's neck, knocking him back into a deeper slumber. In the same instant, he wrenched the knife free allowing a deluge of blood to surge forth between the severed flaps of skin in the boys palm. It was sickening but the man snatched the black bandana from his head allowing a crop of silver hair to shoot up; he swiftly, expertly, wrapped the child's hand up, scooped the shivering bundle into his arms, and leapt high into the sky. The woman kept track of him, wary, until she saw him heading towards the Konoha hospital.

She lowered the telescope, closed her eyes, and, like last time, faded into the night as though she never existed.

* * *

**Four Years Later**

The boy, Naruto, was just turning thirteen today. His lengthy hair had been gathered back into a small horsetail. The hereditary whiskers over his cheeks had become more distinct. He still liked ramen and, oddly enough, had developed a crush on a certain pink haired kunoichi from the ninja academy despite the fact that she treated him like a three-legged dog. He considered it an early birthday present when, just a few days prior, he'd been selected to be on her team along with that jerk Sasuke Uchiha. His sensei had seemed cool enough and, strangely, it felt to Naruto as if they'd met sometime in the past even though Kakashi denied such claims.

Three buildings away was where she had station herself, poised between two water cylinders on the roof. She didn't need a telescope to see him clearly. He was like a beacon to her, shining brightly, drawing her eyes no matter how far she happened to be. Her heart swelled with pride at the sight of him. He was taller now, almost reaching her height, and, despite still being denied food on a regular basis, had came into a svelte build. Growing as he had was a necessary evil, this she had come to realize very early. Such hardships were needed in order to form a sound body and mind, one that would take a lot to cave or break into. Humans were bred for survival and if you put one into a hostile environment, they either adapted or were crushed into nothing. Naruto was still standing, still breathing, and, better yet, had attained a very positive outlook on life, wanting nothing more than to rise above the shackles placed on him and stand above all as Hokage.

Although she had vowed never to interfere until today, the woman had taken it upon herself to devise training regimens and schedules for the boy that she left in sealed letters around his apartment that would only open upon touching his own personal chakra. The lessons he found helped him to grow physically, gave him advise and tips on what areas he needed the most work in as the teachers at the academy barely glanced his way let alone offered any help. To her joy, this helped Naruto excel at a quicker rate than his classmates, a feat that baffled many, but none said a word because that would mean acknowledging that he was somehow better than them, able to stand up as their equal. None of it mattered to Naruto who was overjoyed at his progress. It made him happy to know that he _did_ have what it took to stand besides his fellows.

That last bit of sentimentality meant absolutely nothing to the woman. She knew in her heart there could be no redemption for the people of this village. And if a smidgen could be found, it didn't matter to her. Ninja worked best as a collective so as a collective they would be punished. Yes, from ninja to civilian, from civilian to wife and husband, and from them down to their offspring, none would be exonerated. She'd waited long enough, _far_ too long, but she was not entirely without a heart. She'd specifically chosen this day to decide if vengeance would indeed flow through the streets of Konoha like a plague.

Having watched the blonde grow up from a boy into a handsome young man, she knew that every year on his birthday, like clockwork, the villagers would band together and hunt Naruto down. The implements they used in their endeavor varied annually but already, after just one casual glance down into the streets below, she could see the mob surging forward, picking up more and more followers for every house and dwelling it passed on their way to Naruto's house.

Her eyes lifted, one eyebrow quirked behind her mask. This was odd. Naruto was by no means stupid—despite what teachers and others students constantly yelled at him—yet he still resided within his apartment, kneeled down before the only table in the scarce room. On top of it sat a cake that he himself had made and it was brightly lit with thirteen glimmering candles. It went without saying that he couldn't eat it as the ingredients included things that no edible cake comprised of. Ketchup, rotten eggs, wheat flour, hot sauce, brown cinnamon—all of it haphazardly thrown into a bowl and then baked into the molting one-tier pie that he stared at with such joy and pride. The woman almost smiled at his brave attempts at baking. No one else would have even thought twice to do him such a kindness but this year, being a special year, he had wanted a cake to celebrate properly, even if he'd never take a bite of it.

But she had to wonder why he had not fled. He had to know what was coming for him; he had to be able to hear the drunken cries of " _Demon_!" ripping through the still night air. She stared harder, perhaps missing something. And that's when she saw it. Tears...a deluge of clear liquid leaking heavily from both eyes, dripping off his chin. The woman was perplexed, her heart, once kept in check, beginning to race. Crying? Why was he crying?

When realization crashed into her, the woman slowly crouched down. She knew why Naruto had not run. He was through running. He was...tired. Tired of running all of his life. Had he…given up? Was he going to let the villagers kill him? What about his dreams to become the Hokage and rule over them? Too many questions flooded her mind and she subsequently ceased all thought.

This day was special for Naruto because he was turning thirteen, becoming a teenager. This day was special for the woman because it would be the determining factor of whether she forgave the villagers for their vile acts or took matters into her own hands. Had they matured, come to their god given senses, she would have spared them and this night would have ended on a happy note. Not terribly happy as this was indeed the anniversary that the legendary Nine-Tailed Fox tore through the village, but that was not Naruto's fault. To blame an innocent child for something he had no part in was downright foolish, a cop-out that the weak used as an excuse to mentally and physically abuse him. They saw him as way to relieve stress after a long day rather than treat him as the hero he truly was. It made the bile in her stomach churn to know that everyone within this corroding village hated Naruto because he had virtually saved their lives. He was the one who had to deal with a vicious demon clawing at his very soul, threatening to consume him at a moments mental weakness. Not them! Without his sacrifice as the Nine-Tail's carrier, they'd all be dead and this village would be nothing but a scene of death and destruction, a smoldering crater upon the world.

Actually...that's just what she was about to turn it into. Her mind was made up. This would stop tonight. She would purge this village of all the corroded souls that inhabited it. Just as her student Itachi Uchiha had done to his clan...she was about to do the same to the entire village.

"Hear me now, residents of Konoha. My name...is _Uzumaki Kushina_." At the mention of her name, the mob below came to a startling halt, each and every one of them feeling an icy cold finger drag its way down their spine. Heads began turning, eyes swiveling as they tried to figure out where in the world this ghostly sensation was coming from.

"On my word as a Konoha shinobi...none of you will ever lay hands on my child again."


	2. Chained To Hell

"Have you any last words?"

Like a snake had been dropped from the sky, the mob broke apart, everybody stumbling in different directions in their haste to get away from the red-haired woman who had suddenly appeared within their midst. That was only half the reason they ran and scrambled; the other half was attributed towards the katana she wielded in her right hand. It was a dull red with black inscriptions running the length of the blade and it ended in a slight point, the tip glistening under the flames their torches provided.

Kushina had left her disguise on top of the roof. That was a necessity. She didn't want to be a mere shadow cutting them down. She wanted them see her, to feel her, to perceive without a shred of doubt who was about to fuck them up. Giving no thought to consequence, she knew that by allowing herself to be seen in such a fashion she had incurred the Hokage's wrath—as something told her he was watching her every move through his special crystal ball—but she had decided a decade ago how this was going to play out. There was no stopping it now.

Her red hair, lengthened over time, flowed behind her like a waterfall. Her radiant skin was untouched and ivory despite years of fighting, sneaking, assassinating. But her eyes, it was those pools of piercing dread that struck an untold amount of fear within the mob around her.

"W-who are you?" asked one of the more spindly men, this one wielding a pitchfork in knobby hands.

Just the sight of it set fire within Kushina's stomach though her face remained emotionless. It would do no good to lose herself before it even started, before the other members of her group were able to join in on the fun.

"As far as last words go, that would be considered a terrible waste. I have already said my name." She lifted her blade, holding it vertically, the tip pointed down. " _Oh damned souls, repent for your crimes as the chains of hell drag you into a fiery oblivion_."

She dropped her weapon. It spread the ground at her feet. The mob continued to stare bewildered at Kushina, half wondering of the purpose behind this woman's strange claim. After a few seconds, Kushina looked up towards the sky. She had tried. Yes, she had tried just then to find even one remaining scrape of affection that still resided within her for this village. She found none, and now felt slightly foolish. She claimed she'd made up her mind yet was still looking for reasons to forgive them….

"Let's...make the sky rain demon's blood," she suggested lowly. Unsurprisingly, she earned herself cheers of glory from the mob all around, each of them under the impression that she was referring to Naruto. Now she had no doubt; they'd taken it from her. "And so you all spit in the face of mercy," she whispered icily, her voice unable to carry above the rapturous yells. "The only demons I see... _are all of you_."

A drop of blood escaped her right eye. It rolled down her cheek and clung to her chin for only a second before dripping to the ground. " _Release_."

The screams of joy from the mob morphed into screams of pure agony when dozens upon dozens of silver chains erupted from the ground, impaling them with grisly snapping and crunching noises. Lifting her head only slightly, Kushina watched with listless eyes as several of the villagers were hoisted high into the night air, their bodies savagely punctured and, much like a water balloon, began spewing scarlet liquid that splashed to the ground. It was almost like watching some grotesque puppet show. She closed her eyes to the sounds of their harmonious wailing and shrieking, the sounds of bones being crushed to dust as her chains wrapped around their flailing bodies, applying an ungodly amount of pressure; she could hear them retching as their crushed guts found escape through their mouths.

Regressing into a mindset that allowed her to enjoy this, Kushina lifted both arms like she was about to conduct a choir and began skipping around in the copious puddles of blood that were forming all up and down the lane.

The screaming from up above was soon replaced by a strangled gurgling. Pretty soon, as Kushina kept her gaze lowered, she began to see clumps of peeled flesh splattering to the ground, following by the tinkling noise of bone fragments. She didn't look up, not because she feared what kind of sight would meet her eyes, but because she received more joy in watching the aftermath of her chains work as they tore the villagers apart and showered her with fleshly trophies of severed fingers and yanked out tongues. She pushed more anger into her chains, felt them grabbing the villagers by the arms and legs before roughly yanking them into bloody chunks—the parts that crashed to the ground caused a little smirk to break out over her face.

Soon, the ground resembled the aftermath of a small child spilling spaghetti on the floor. The screaming had stopped. It was eerily quiet save for the rattling of her chains as they slithered back into the ground, their job done. All but one remained and it lowered the battered body of that spindly man down to her like an offering, holding him upside down by a twisted ankle.

"You asked who I am, did you not?" The man went to speak when Kushina gripped him by the throat, applying only the smallest of pressure before whatever resided there was crushed to a bloody pulp that came spilling out of the mans mouth. "No one told you to talk back," she said, ignoring his slovenly face as tears began escaping.

She wrenched her sword from the ground and held it up for the man to see. He was the last survivor of the mob and yet, she still had so much pent up rage. It wasn't like her to stoop to dismemberment, no matter how badly the target annoyed her, but when the subject matter concerned her child, well….

"I think I can make a little exception," and she dug her blade into the mans stomach, bisecting the supple flesh there easily. She sidestepped the stream of blood that spurted forth and, ignoring the mans fresh screams of pain, plunged a hand into his insides. Curious, she felt around, her fingers rolling over folds of sinewy muscle and crushed bone until she hit something extra gooey and springy. "Ah-ha, there you are." The moment she grabbed it the man burped and vomited, forcing a stream of chunky reddish-brown liquid up through his shattered throat. This didn't deter Kushina; she only 'tsk, tsked' before pulling out a long, blood-saturated cord that spilled stomach acid out one end.

"Don't die yet," she soothed in a maternal voice, moving behind the man. He was gargling blood, convulsing as he hung upside down. The smell was nauseating but Kushina inhaled, letting it fill her. There would be plenty more of it before the night's end. She took the tube of intestine in both hands and expertly wound it around the man's neck, pulling tightly. The strain caused blood vessels to pop in his eyes but he couldn't scream through the gore piling past his mouth. She put her lips next to his ear. " _My name is Uzumaki Kushina_ _. Spread it in hell._ "

And she reached around his front, yanking on the other half of his intestine that trailed out of him. What little life resided within the man faded like a morning star when his insides poured out, sploshing to the ground in a heap of blood and other juices. Comically, the mans corpse looked ridiculously hollow and Kushina allowed herself a small laugh as her chains flung the empty carcass somewhere into the shadows before slinking back into the ground.

Putting a finger to the blood trail left behind from her tear, Kushina gazed out at all the limbs and body parts staining the alleyway. She felt nothing. No...that was a lie. She felt...happiness, a certain kind of parental happiness knowing that there were—she racked her memory—that there were 27 less people in the world to torment her child. In a flash of scarlet, she was suddenly back on the roof, appearing next to a specially marked red kunai wedged into one of the water cylinders. Almost longingly, she turned to gaze at her precious son. He was no longer crying she saw. He had moved to the door of his apartment and was very hesitantly glancing out of the peephole. Overcome with another sudden rush of motherly love, Kushina wanted to hug him as he slowly opened the door, sticking his head out to look quickly from side to side. He was so… _adorable_ as he searched for the mob, probably confused beyond all reasoning that they were so late to get on with their annual beating.

She waited until he had shut the door again, smiling when he double and triple locked it, before unwedging her special kunai and rearing back her arm. It may have been pitch black but she knew this village like the back of her hand and could easily pinpoint where the Hokage's tower was. Going even further than that, she narrowed down her throwing radius to the window that led to the Hokage's office. She'd always warned him that the price of having a birds eye view of the village was not worth the risk when an enemy could easily penetrate it. He had not listened to her. And now he would pay for it.

Her ears prickled. She could hear the sound of several ninja approaching, possibly jonin by the expert sound of their footfalls as they skipped over buildings. True, their movements were estinto, damn good for their training, but to Kushina they were little more than children whom she didn't have time to coddle and play with. She'd put them down for a nap later.

"Naruto, my dear child, you will see me soon," she whispered into the wind, and her arm blurred as she flung the kunai, watching it disappear with a little glint. An instant later she felt a slight ping in her chakra and knew that the mark had been hit. "But for now I have a rather... _urgent_ meeting with the Hokage."

She vanished in a flash of scarlet. Less than three seconds later, a multitude of no less than forty Anbu members arrived on the roof. While most of them looked around in confusion, so sure that their target had been _right_ here, only one with a bird mask looked over the edge down into the street below. What he saw caused him to rip the mask from his face and lean over, ignoring their commanding officer who yelled at him to put it back on before he expelled a massive amount of bile from his mouth.

As a collective, his fellows peered down as well. Nothing but the sight of ground up flesh and organs meet their roaming eyes and soon, the bird Anbu member was not only one vomiting. They were all aghast, horrified at the prospect that someone or something could do this. And why? For what reason?

"Yugao!" yelled their leader, sweeping his arm towards a masked purple-haired woman, one of the few Anbu who had not thrown up. She nodded at his call. "Go alert the Hokage at once! I don't know what did this but...damn, it's obviously something not of this world."

Yugao stood, prepared to make the journey in a single bound, when she suddenly crashed to her knees, slamming a hand to the roof in order to keep from toppling. What in the hell…? Everything seemed to gradually be fading; her sight, her sense of smell, her hearing, all of it was dimming as though she'd been snuck by a genjutsu. For the first time since becoming an Anbu member, Yugao knew fear as feeling left her legs leaving them lifeless, dead. Breathing was starting to get problematic and she looked around, growing increasingly panicked when several of her fellows began falling over, thudding like logs to the floor where they remained, motionless.

A tart smell assaulted her nose; her stomach suddenly heaved and before she could stop it, she spewed sick into her mask, the foul substance getting all over her face; she retched again as it clogged her throat causing her to swallow a good majority of what she'd spit up. Airway blocked, she gagged horribly until her arm support wavered and she fell sideways, her mask fortunately breaking away. Through globs of puke caked into her eyes, she saw a light-gray canteen tucked underneath one of the water cylinders, hissing as it released some sort of clear gas into the air. Her aching mind couldn't figure out what it was but she knew it was what had claimed her life…what had claimed the lives of her squad. She was the last to quit breathing, holding on by sheer will, but the toxin soon invaded her lungs with corroding force. Sputtering a mix of blood and foam, Yugao's shriveled body convulsed then stilled, her eyes rolling up into her skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Yugao....


End file.
